This here li’l ol’ goat-headed Jones party sticks his head out of his cabin door and stares at me and Magpie. He don’t look friendly a-tall.
“We come down to git yer bear,” sez Magpie. “In th’ interests uh science I asks yuh to——”
Mighty must uh had that shotgun in his hand behind th’ door, ’cause Magpie only gits uh runnin’ start on his oration when we’re gazin’ down uh two-barreled muzzle-loader.
“Git!” sez Mighty.
Magpie looks right past Mighty’s off ear and yells—
“Don’t hit him with that club!”
I reckon Mighty must uh been excited to fall fer uh trick as ol’ as that, but he did. He whirls that ol’ gun around, an th’ next thing he knowed, Magpie has him pinned to th’ floor and I’m removin’ the caps off that gun.
“Now,” sez Magpie, “mebby you’ll listen to reason.”
“I will like ——!” snaps Mighty. “I’ll listen to what Magpie Simpkins has to say, but I’ll be teetotally danged if I’ll agree that it’s reason.”
“We comes on uh peaceful mission and meets uh armed force,” states Magpie. “If yuh wants visitors to carry uh flag uh truce, why don’t yuh advertise th’ fact, Mighty?”